Insomnia
by ILikeInappropriateThings
Summary: Bakura and Ryou are brothers. They love each other dearly, but everytime its time to sleep, Bakura gets upset. He is unable to find rest in himself, and hates ryou for being able to sleep. No one understand his kind of 'insomnia' it seems. Summary inside


HELLO. I DONT OWN YUGIOH-SURPRISED? I THINK NOT.

AT FIRST, I WANT TO SAY. I DON'T DO TENDERSHIPPING. I guess it's because Bakura usually isn't the one being ... Well ... Screwed over.

But enough of my irrational hate and mind of a 5 year old. I've probably already managed to stir up a fuckload of fangirls anyway so I really dun'care...I sound like such a goddamn bitch right now...Oh well!

This story is inspired by a short, itty bitty novelle we read in school a few days ago. I liked the story a lot :3 And thought it fit so well with Ryou and Bakura...In a brotherly kind of way. And for the ones who like wincest-Go ahead and think of it-I already did...I dunno what else to say? Most people probably won't understand it, but all I can say is

-Mental illnesses!

Warning: Swearing, AU, wincest (For the ones who think for themselves)...Not more?

* * *

At first, we slept in bunk beds. Remember that? You, on the bottom, with your brown eyes and soft lips. Your skin was healthier than mine, but dry and rough all over, and with your slim, cute feet that poked out from under your blankets; you wanted to sleep so bad. But I lay on the top, peppery, unsettled and didn't give you a moment of peace. "ARE YOU SLEEPING" I'd yell, right when the air in our room was adjusted and you were drifting off. I poked my head down and stared intensely at your neck till you could feel it, and had to answer. And when you at last got so tired, that even your big brother couldn't wake you, I'd crawl down to your feet with my heart in my throat. I'd pull the sheets off of you, tickle your feet, right on the middle where it's worst, till you started to cry.

I didn't want to be alone, I simply couldn't stand it; The darkness, all our toys coming to life and glaring at me, only me, because they were evil.

You cried loud, like a banshee, and I let you go to avoid mothers steps on the hallway, her hard heels against the wooden floor, and the door that'd be thrown open. Sometimes I'd let you sleep for a couple of hours, while I scrambled around above you. I'd turn on the lights, read books till my arms were numb and my insides were filled with fear and anger from exhaustion.

You see, already back then I wasn't able to surrender. I was so goddamned stubborn.

I let you sleep for a few hours, and then I'd be back.

"Ryouuuuuu, wake up, I have to tell you something very secret..." I'd whip up the tension, tease you, try to make my 'secret' more interesting than what you were dreaming of. But you were so tired. I begged, threated you and pinched your calves. I whispered into your ear, but you'd only mumble something, roll into a ball and turn away from me.

So it always ended with you making me cry. I'd lay against your back, sobbing and upset, but still-I managed to live off of your warmth and sleep. Your simple, warm sleep. Because you know, that I, myself always have cold hands, and they are, even to this day. I lay there, loathing you with every fiber in my body, wetting your hair with tears and spit.

But I would **always** go back to my own bed when I'd finished. I didn't want you to see me this weak the next morning, or have you ask why I was in your bed.

Eventually, I got a room of my own upstairs. That was when we'd gotten a bit older, I had begun to wear less clothes at that time. It came by itself that you'd told on me to mother. You told her, telling I wouldn't let you sleep. You told, and there is no forgiveness for that. You knew that very well little brother, and that's why you waited so long, till you couldn't take it anymore. So, I was pushed aside. I was furious-Demanded that we got something-A voice box, those communication things. Do you remember?

Of course, I presented the idea to you like it was briliant.

"We'll be able to talk together without the grown ups knowing. It'll be a secret!"

Mother's new man, wanting to do something good for us, fastened the wire all the way from your room, to mine. I could feel it through the floor, when you were about to dooze off, and I'd press the button in rage. Half asleep you'd answer me, I'd ramble, frantically trying to come up with something new, so you wouldn't fall asleep. I taught you how to touch yourself that way. Gave you instructions through the mic. You always got quiet, but I could hear you breathing.

I guess that was something Ryou, that I taught you, even when you were so small. Are you still displeased by it?

But then, even the voice box got too much for you, though it took long for you because of your patience. You got them to tear it down, and mother wanted to talk to me in private. She said I misused your trust, that I was too old for this, that she was tired of me being such a tease.

I wasn't a tease you understand? I was just scared. I wanted to pull you with me, into my own little sea of despair where I was stranded. In the darkness, drag you into that blackened hell where you can't breath anymore, I wouldn't want to be alone down there. At least, if I had you, it'd make two of us, so I had something to hold onto, hug and get angry with. But you wouldn't want to go Ryou, even though you did put up with a lot. That patience, that silence, and the way your brown eyes would look into themselves, I couldn't take that from you.

No matter how much I'd fight and scream, you wouldn't. So, they peeled off the wires, mother's man did it. Patiently, tugging out every nail, one by one. Then, it was all stacked in the attic, with our old toys.

I emptied out my room, replaced a few things with more expensive ones, hung posters on the walls and took showers five times a day. I wrote a diary, always remebering to lock it carefully so you wouldn't steal it and laugh with your stupid little friends. Meanwhile, your feet grew bigger, your fingers turned slim and pretty and mother had to buy you new clothes more often.

Even when you played soccer in the streets in the evening I watched you from the window in my room. Your lean, strong legs that outran everyone. Your soft hair when you moved around.

Grandmother sent me an ornament, one meant for insomnia. It was meant to hang from the ceiling, and I was soppused to watch it, and assumingly fall asleep immediatly. It said that in the instructions after all.

"It's damned rubbish!" Mother said, but she still put it up. I think she was getting annoyed by my voice at night, through the house, from top to bottom, while everyone slept like little lambs. Not that it worked, the ornament, I was wide awake, and ready to cry my heart out. I wanted to sleep in mothers bed, I admit that. Breath in all of the familiar scents, but I was too old for that. And her man, and what they did together. I wanted to lay between them so bad, to keep them off each other.

So I came up with the cane. I'd found a wooden stick in the forest as a last resort, that I knocked into the floor. Don't you remember? - I gave you one too, so you give me back. You could easily reach the ceiling if you lay in the top bunk where you slept. I made up a whole new language, just for us.

Knocking once, meant '_Are you sleeping?'_, twice for '_Yes'_, thrice for '_No_' and four times for '_Won't you come up to me?' _In the beginning you were eager to talk to me. You answered me, and I smiled to myself in the darkness.

"He's awake" I'd think, sattisfied. "He's laying down there with his light skin and brown eyes, awake, and listening to me."

But you easily grew tired of the game, and ignored my knocking. I got pissed off. Began tearing things off the walls, knocking over everything that could cause noise and slammed whatever was within my reach, into the floor, right until I heard the door beneath me opening. Your soft footsteps on their way to mother, your crying, your freezing skin beneath your shirt.

And mother came up to me in her nightrobe, in complete rage, asking why I was such a nightowl, why I was so hysteric and making them insane with all that shit I did.

She couldn't know, I was too good at lying. That's the way you did it, you betrayed me. You were all too young to know what you were doing, there are so many opportunities.

You came up with your own games, you got your own diary, you didn't even want to look for mine anymore. Your brown eyes grew more dark, mature and protected you from me. You were almost an adult. You had your own things behind them, and I couldn't get past that anymore.

Was that your revenge ? Or will it turn out like that during time?

I remember that, I one night, sat on my bed and stroked my own, cold fingers. I also remember that I was disorientated, upset. I cursed you. "_Remember this. There is only one person in the whole wide world you can trust from now, and that's yourself my dear."_

Since then, the cold spread throughout the rest of me, and that's the way it still is.

You see, all this ice beneath my skin does things to me. Warm, familiar things and scents will melt before they reach me. Caresses for example, gentle touches and listeners, they melt and won't break through my barrier.

You of all must know that I can't stand being alone. But that's the way it turned out, that's the way it is. Because what you do, can't be escaped, you can't take it back Ryou. It'll turn into a bottomless pit -your own, sea of despair, black and without mercy or peace, just like mine. I might as well just stay around in it.

Because I won't ask you to pull me up anymore, I won't ask anyone, it's not worth it. I won't surrender, not ever. I've always been so goddamned stubborn.

* * *

Ooooooh, Bakura, you're so screw up mentally.

My teachers should stop giving us such stories, it makes my mind run! :D


End file.
